Our Inner Demons
by HeidiBug731
Summary: Archie has feelings for Red that he knows he shouldn't. There's a significant age gap, they have nearly nothing in common, and a psychologist shouldn't date his patients. But despite their differences, their inner demons may be the one thing that brings them together.
1. There are Worse Men

He reminds himself for the thousandth time that he shouldn't be staring at her. But he just can't help it. She is so damn beautiful.

He never would have paid her a second glance as Ruby, the insecure girl who was always trying too hard. But as Red she is strong, independent, with just enough gentle uncertainty underneath. And she is gorgeous. Any unattached man would have to be an idiot not to notice.

"Archie?"

He jumps as she says his name. He hadn't realized he'd been staring.

"Are you all right?" she asks. "You seem kind of out of it."

"No, no," he says, shaking his head, trying to stop the heat from rising to his cheeks. "I'm fine. I - I just - I've been a little unraveled these days." He forces himself to meet her gaze.

"I supposed being kidnapped will do that to you." She looks sympathetic, not patronizing. Perhaps she didn't realize he was staring.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, not really knowing what he's saying.

"Coffee?" she suggest.

"Please," he says. He nearly begs her for it.

He puts his forehead in his hand and massages his temples with his fingers as she walks away. He glances down at Pongo, curled up next to him by the chair, who gives him a soft moan as if to say _You're pathetic_.

He pulls his head back up to find a pair hazel eyes staring into him. He mutters under his breath and tries to look inconspicuous, but she heads straight toward him.

"There would be worse men for my granddaughter to end up with," says Granny as she reaches his chair.

"I-I-" he stammers. "I didn't mean-"

"Oh, I know you didn't," she says softly so the other customers won't overhear. "My granddaughter isn't unattractive, and she's had several men call on her over the years." She looks him up and down. "You're a little older than her, but I expect you to be more honorable than most."

His hand goes self-consciously to his receding hair line.

"You are not very good with women, are you, Dr. Hopper?"

The question startles him, unsure of what exactly she is getting at. "N-n-no, ma'm," he says, unable to meet her eyes.

"My granddaughter isn't very good with men either," she sighs. "Not since she found out about the wolf. You two at least have that in common."

He looks up at her, unsure of what exactly she means, when Ruby returns with the coffee and Granny walks away.

"What were the two of you talking about?" Ruby asks conversationally as she hands him the mug.

Not wanting to answer, he grabs at the cup hurriedly and takes a large gulp, nearly burning himself in the process.

"Careful," she says.

Frazzled, and tired of embarrassing himself, he stands from the chair, taking Pongo with him. He shakes his head, pulling some cash from his pocket. "I-I-I'm sorry. Here." He puts the cash on the table. "Thank you. For-for the coffee."

He hurries from the café, trying to put his embarrassment far behind him.

He'd acted like such an idiot. At least they could blame his oddities on the recent kidnapping with Hook. This time.

"Archie!"

Halfway to his office, he turns to find Ruby running toward him, styrofoam cup of coffee in hand. He stops. She catches up with him and hands it to him.

"For the road," she says, and he can tell by her face that she's worried about him.

"Thanks," he says and, unable to think of something to say, he turns away, continuing his walk.

But then something stops him. "Ruby!" he turns and finds that she hasn't moved from her spot.

He wants to tell her how stunning she looks, but he can't get out the words, and all the while she is standing there and waiting for him to continue. "You're . . . you're . . . a wolf," he says.

She blinks. "Yes . . ."

"I-" he starts. "I know what it's like."

She smiles. "You were a cricket."

"Yeah."

"It's not the same."

"Oh, no. That's not what I meant." He waves his arms, the coffee sloshing around in the cup. "It was being human that scared me."

She shakes her head. "You didn't rip people apart."

"Oh, no, I did." He nods. "I did. Not physically, like your wolf. But I . . . hurt them." She stares at him and he continues. "I know what it's like to be both human and animal. I know what it's like to have no control, to wake up every day afraid of who you are going to be and what you are going to do. I know what it's like to wish to be someone else. And now, here in Storybrooke, I find out what it's like to be both, to not be one or the other, to have to find a balance, because both are you in the end, even the part you don't really like. And I know what it's like to feel as though you have no one who can understand you, what you are going through. And I know that you're wrong, that there is someone you can talk to."

She's staring at him hard, unmoving, and he knows he's said the right words.

"I should go," he says. "I'm upsetting you." Her eyes are shinning.

"No," she tells him, shaking her head. "No." She doesn't move or say anything else.

They stare at each other for moment.

"I'll be in my office," he says, "if you want to talk sometime."

She nods, but says nothing, still looking at him with those intense eyes.

"Well," he turns to leave, then holds up the cup. "Thanks again . . . for the coffee."

He walks away, certain that she's still standing there staring after him.

Pongo lifts his head and makes a kind of moan that sounds like_ Much better_.


	2. Making a Connection

When there's a knock on the door, he doesn't think about who it might be. People frequently stop by to visit, even at this late hour as he is about to close up.

His movements are almost automatic, his thoughts nearly nonexistent, as he goes for the door. But when he opens it to find her standing there, his minds goes into hyper drive, leaving him at a loss for what to do. Somehow, he manages to grab one merciful thought that reminds him to not to gape.

"Hey," she says simply. "Can I come in?"

"Uh." He shuts his eyes tight, willing his mind to come back to him, to think. "Ye-yes." His feet move, leaving the pathway open to her. "Come in."

He makes his way over to his chair, and she sits on the couch. She looks small, vulnerable somehow. Maybe it's the expression on her face, how her eyebrows seem to fold in toward her eyes and her chin is scrunched toward her mouth. Her arms are crossed, her posture stiff.

He knows he should say something but can't think of the words. Thankfully she speaks first.

"You said you've hurt people."

"Ah." His mind finally comes back to him. So she'd been thinking about what he'd said. "Yes. I have."

She waits for him to continue.

"I had parents," he begins. "They were manipulative people. Selfish. Cared about no one but themselves. They would con people out of their money, their livelihood, and leave them with nothing. And I . . . helped them because . . . well, they were my parents. I loved them despite everything. And that kind of love binds you, even when you know of it and wish it didn't."

She nods like she understands. But he knows she doesn't, not completely, not yet.

"One day," he continues. "I decided I couldn't let them do it anymore, that I would stop it. But the spell I had acquired backfired. A little boy lost his parents. They were just gone." He sighs and leans back in his chair. "I've thought often about those families we robbed. How many of them starved? How many suffered because of our actions? My actions," he corrects. "Sometimes inactivity against evil can be just as bad if not more so than acting on evil."

She smiles at him, and he straightens up in the chair.

"So, I didn't want to be human anymore, bound to my parents, bound to inactivity. I wanted to start over, be someone new, someone who couldn't hurt people anymore. So, I became a cricket." He pauses. He isn't sure what he's about to say is needed for her to hear. But he decides it doesn't matter. He wants her to know it. He leans toward her, his hands clasped in his lap. "You know, Ruby, I often think about that boy and how I will never be able to make up for what I did. He became one of my best friends, but his pain is something I caused. And I'll never be able to erase it."

She leans forward now too, looking up into his face. "I killed the first man I ever loved," she says and he's sure that there are tears in her eyes this time. "That's how I found out I was a wolf. He's gone because of me."

He doesn't know how it happens, if he reaches for her or if she reaches for him, but eventually their hands meet and it's more than just a physical connection. From this moment they understand one another more than they ever have before. Both of them carried a dark secret and had isolated themselves because of it. But now they have each found someone whose secret is exactly the same. Their clasping of hands is more than just an offering of comfort. It's a statement that says _I understand, and I'm still here_. And both of them feel it and know it.

She smiles at him, and he smiles at her.

Pongo makes an apologetic whine as he paws at the door.

He shakes his head, losing the moment. "I, uh," he says, reluctant to let go of her hand. "I got to let him out." He releases her and goes for Pongo's leash.

"You had to go now?" he asks as he's walking the dog down the sidewalk.

Pongo whines again as though saying _I'm sorry! But I had to!_

When they get back to the office, Ruby is waiting for him outside.

"I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye," she says. "I need to be getting back."

He nods, hoping the disappointment isn't visible on his face. "Of course."

"Thanks for the talk, Archie."

"You too," he replies as she leaves him. He looks down at Pongo who makes the apologetic whine again.

Sighing, he steps into his office to make sure everything is in order to close up for the night. He reaches to a stack of forms and a pen, then stops as he starts to write in Ruby's name. The process of filling out patient forms is so automatic by now that he hadn't thought about what he was doing.

He shakes his head. Ruby isn't a patient. Or is she? Was that just a friendly talk? Or had she come by for counseling? They had both shared some rather personal information about each other. And he had meant the invite he made yesterday for them to talk as friendly, but he could see how she might take it another way. Still, she had never mentioned counseling. Nor had she mentioned stopping by again.

And he taking her hand . . . and whatever else had happened there . . . it didn't seem like appropriate doctor-patient behavior.

He sighs, friendly chat or not, either way he knows he's in trouble. Exactly how long can he hide his emotions for? Sooner or later, he's bound to let something slip. And then what would she say? What would she do? What if she never wanted to speak to him again? Or worse, what if he started dating one of his own patients?

The thought both excites him and churns his stomach. No, he decides, there's definitely something wrong with a doctor dating his patients. That is a line he simply will not cross, not for any woman, to even for her.

He looks down at hardly started form. If she stops by again, he'll get clarification from her.

In the mean time, he'll pray counseling isn't what she's looking for.


	3. A River of Doubt

It's Saturday, which means it's time for Pongo's weekly walk through the woods.

He often walks Pongo through the town, but he's made it a habit once week to take Pongo out to the woods surrounding Storybrooke so he can have the chance to run around.

Pongo is practically quivering with excitement as they cross the threshold from the town road to the woods. They walk in a few yards further until Pongo sits down and looks up at him, ready to be let go.

He reaches down and takes the leash from Pongo's collar. The dog bolts off the moment he knows he's free.

He doesn't chase after Pongo, not even when he runs out of sight. They have done this routine many times and know it by heart. Pongo will run around, chasing rabbits and birds and whatever else crosses his path. Eventually, he will make it down to the river. The two of them will sit and enjoy the peace for a moment. Depending on the day, Pongo might take a swim. Then he'll put the leash back on and they'll walk home for lunch.

He always enjoys these Saturday walks. Time alone in the woods gives him to the opportunity think, or to not think, however he pleases. Today, he's simply enjoying nature. The trees and ground are still wet from morning dew, giving everything a glossy look. He doesn't see any wildlife. Pongo usually does a good job of scaring everything off. Though he thinks he hears a cricket chirping somewhere, which puts him in a good mood.

Everything seems ordinary until he hears Pongo barking repeatedly and then there's a scream.

He takes off running, brushing through brambles and low hanging branches. He can hear the flowing river . . . now see it . . . he turns toward an overhang to find Pongo standing over Ruby, barking and liking her face. Ruby squeals again through her laughter, trying to push Pongo off her.

"Pongo!" he yells, stepping toward them. "Down!"

Pongo steps back, giving Ruby space to breathe, his tail waving rapidly from excitement.

"I'm so sorry," he says, rushing over to help Ruby up from the ground.

"It's okay," she says, smiling and wiping the dog slobber off her face. Pongo nudges her with his nose and she reaches down to pet him. "I _know_," she says. "I'm excited to see you too, boy!" She scratches him behind the ears, and he becomes complacent to the point of laying down, waiting for more attention.

Ruby finds a relatively dry spot to sit on and continues scratching Pongo. "I didn't expect to see you two here," she says to Archie.

"I always bring Pongo here on Saturday mornings," he tells her, sitting down as well. "What brings you here?"

"It was a full moon."

"Oh. Yeah." He had nearly forgotten. "I mean, you stay here? I would have thought you'd . . . go home."

"I do sometimes," she says. "The transformation takes a lot out of you. Sometimes it's just easier to stay where you are. Oh!" Pongo bolts upright, apparently having heard something. Ruby turns her head in the direction he's looking, perhaps having picked up on the sound as well. Pongo runs off.

"Rabbit, I think," she tells Archie.

"Right."

"It's nice that you bring him here," she continues. "It's good to stretch your legs."

"I take it, you like it here too," he says.

"I do." She smiles at him.

They are silent for a moment. She takes in her surroundings, not really looking at them, and he senses she wants to say something.

"What is it?" he asks.

"It's just . . ." she starts. "Every time I get comfortable . . . something always happens. It's like Storybrooke, things are always changing, new dangers are popping up all the time, old ones disappearing for a while, and I . . ." She pauses, trying to find the right words. "It's like when I was talking with Dr. Whale the other day-"

"Whale?" He can't help the surprise that leaves him. She's having a hard time getting out her words. This topic is obviously personal to her, and the thought that she would easily share it with someone else . . . not that he wouldn't consider her free to share her feelings with other men . . .

"He was suicidal," she tells him.

"Oh," his worry that she might be interested in someone else immediately dissipates, concern replacing it.

"He seemed better later," she says, "but you might want to talk him."

"Thank you," he tells her, nodding. "I-I will." He could nearly kick himself for having jealous thoughts toward a suicidal man.

"Anyway," she continues. "I told him that Storybrooke has given us a fresh start, and that I want to take it, and that was true, but . . . it's hard," she admits, looking up at him. "I have control now. I know I'm not going to hurt anyone, but that doesn't change the fact that I have in the past. I'm comfortable where I am now, and I want to take that next step and-" She tears her gaze away. "Do things that I haven't let myself do before. But I'm afraid that if I step outside my comfort zone . . ."

"It's always scary," he tells her, confident now the conversation has turned toward a topic he's comfortable with. "stepping outside what we know to be safe. That's perfectly natural."

"But everything with Storybrooke," she tells him. "People from outside coming in, dealing with Hook, Regina, the giant . . . is now even the right time to try something new when everything is so chaotic? Something always goes wrong, why add to it?"

He takes her hands. "Life," he says, "is never worth living in the safe zone. When I first became a cricket, I was going to restart my life. Everything was new and different and scary. I had to go to that boy whose parents I killed and-and raise him." He lets out a nervous laugh. "How was I going to do that? I knew nothing about raising a kid, nothing about doing right and everything about doing wrong, and how could that child possibly trust me after everything I'd done?"

He pauses, let's go of her hands. "I didn't have external forces working with my fear, but if I had let my fear hold me back, that boy would never have grown up to be the man he is today, I wouldn't have been a part of Snow's, or Pinocchio's, or several other lives . . . I wouldn't be happy." He looks at her, taking in her face. "If-if you let fear stop you from living the way you want to live, then you'll find that life pass by without you . . . as I imagine Dr. Whale was feeling when you spoke with him."

He's lost for a moment, thinking about how best to approach Whale. Then he shakes his head and brings himself back to the conversation. He looks back at her. "Does that help?"

She smiles. "Yes." But there's still concern on her face.

"The only thing you can do," he tells her, "is to just swallow the fear and move forward. It's easier said than done, but that is the best advice I can give."

She smiles again, nodding. "Thank you." As though to reassure him, she reaches out and takes his hand.

He gives her fingers a gentle squeeze. "Ruby," he says with a slight sigh. "We are friends, right? I just - I mean, I need know . . . for patient records."

"Oh!" she takes her hand away from his, bring it to her mouth. "Yes, of course. Of course we are." She's flustered now, and he regrets making her so. "Yes, I . . . I'm sorry. I can see how I could have made you confused-"

"No, no, it's-it's alright-"

"I-I never meant this to be anything more than friendly conversation."

"Well . . ." He sighs, internally kicking himself again. He had hoped these personal conversations were perhaps hinting toward a little more than friends. But if there had been any hope of that, he's sure he's just screwed it up by making her think he'd thought of her as patient. "I-I'm glad we got that settled, then."

He wants to take her hand again, something to make her see that he hadn't meant it the way that it sounded. But he's too nervous.

Sometimes it's hard taking your own advice.

And then, just as he's thinking it might not be too late for him to act, Pongo reemerges from the woods. Whatever he was chasing, there is no sign of it. He runs into the water, splashing and playing, catching droplets of water he paws into the air with his mouth.

He and Ruby watch and laugh until Pongo has had enough. He steps onto the shore, shakes himself dry, then walks over to Archie and nudges his leash. It's time to go.

He stands, leashes Pongo, and looks back at Ruby. "Will you be heading back to town?" He's hoping she'll accompany them. Maybe he can make up for his stupid words.

"Soon," she says, still sitting. "I, uh, I'll stay for a while. The woods help me think."

"Well, then," He wishes he wasn't standing, that she wasn't so far from him, that he could reach and touch her hand or shoulder, anything to try an fix what he's sure he's broken. "We'll see you around."

She smiles and nods.

"Take care, Ruby," he adds as he pulls Pongo along.

"You too."

Their Saturday morning treks into the woods are usually relaxing, and he usually leaves feeling rejuvenated. But this time is different. His heart and mind are pulled in several different ways. He thinks about Ruby, how he'd love to date her and how he's probably messed that up now. He thinks about Whale, how he should probably talk to him. He thinks about Ruby and Whale, which he doesn't want to think about at all but can't help.

Above all, he thinks about his own fear, his own nervousness and insecurities holding him back. He knows he should confess how he feels.

But change is scary, even for Jiminy Cricket.


	4. Friendly Advice

He's sitting at the counter, waiting on his coffee when he sees Ruby walk by with a plate of fruit covered waffles. She takes them, smiling, over to a table where Dr. Whale is sitting.

The doctor says something to her as she sits the plate down, she responds, he says something else, and they both laugh.

He turns his face away from the two of them, wishing he had his coffee to busy himself with. He tells himself he's acting ridiculous. It's perfectly within her rights to flirt with other men if she likes. And it's just as perfectly fine if the man she's flirting with isn't him.

Of course, it might not even be flirting. He's probably reading too much into it. He tends to do that. It's an occupational hazard.

She hands him his coffee finally along with his breakfast order of bacon, eggs, and hash browns. He looks up at her to extend a friendly smile or greeting, but Granny's is busy this morning and she's being summoned by another customer.

He sighs at his plate, again reminds himself that he's reading too much into things, and takes a bite of toast.

"Hi, Archie!" Mary Margret slides onto the stool next to him.

He turns his head and smiles at her. "Good morning!"

Ruby comes up to her to take her order.

"Oh, I'm waiting on David," she says, and Ruby hurries away again. "She likes you, you know."

It takes him a moment to realize she's talking to him. He swallows his mouth full of bacon, forgetting to chew, and it hurts going down. "S-sorry?"

"Ruby," she says. "She likes you."

He shakes his head, sure that his hearing is failing.

Mary Margret laughs. "Oh, come on, that shouldn't be much of a surprise, what with the two of you being around each other so much lately."

"W-well, yes, but-" It was true that he and Ruby had spent a lot of time together recently. She'd joined him for a few walks with Pongo or stopped by to talk in his office, he's stopped in Granny's just to converse with her, but all of it was perfectly friendly. He certainly hadn't seen any indication . . .

"You know, it's funny how when we're looking for love we can be completely blind to it," she tells him, smiling knowingly.

"I-I'm not-"

But David comes in the door at that moment, and Mary Margret hops off her stool to join him, their conversation forgotten.

He turns back to his plate and forces a forkful of egg into his mouth. Suddenly, he's not as hungry as he was.

Could Ruby really have feelings for him? Or is Mary Margret simply reading too much into things, as he has been doing all morning? Had Ruby said something to her? And if she had said something, why hadn't she told him of her feelings?

Of course, he supposes, he hasn't exactly made his feelings clear either. It's quite possible Ruby thinks the same thing of him as he does of her, that she's just not interested.

He eats breakfast slowly, hoping for an opportunity to catch her attention. He tries not to think about Dr. Whale or imagine that he's doing the same.

She does come by to make sure his meal is alright. But things are so busy that he doesn't want to hold her up, so he simply smiles, nods, and says, "Y-yes, thank you." And then she's gone again.

She stops by later to refill his coffee and he manages to ask her how her morning is going.

"Oh! Good!" she says, sounding a little breathless, but she smiles. "Busy."

He wants to say something else, maybe invite her to . . . what? Stop by his place for . . . something? Walk Pongo with him?

He suddenly realizes how much of a recluse he is. Anything he could invite her to do suddenly seems incredibly boring. He tries to think of something around town, maybe invite her to grab some ice cream. But before he can decide, she's off again with another customer.

He lets out a long sigh, silently cursing himself. Relinquishing all hope, he finishes his meal, sets a tip on the counter, and leaves.

But not before Dr. Whale grabs him on the way out and they set up a time to meet. He had spoken with the doctor previously about counseling, and Whale had said he'd think about it. Apparently, he had decided it was a good idea . . . or Ruby had talked him into it.

He's reading too much into things.

He leaves the diner feeling flustered. He's more than happy to counsel Whale, of course, but he just can't shake the thought of him and Ruby and that Whale's had more success where she is concerned.

* * *

He promised Marco he'd stop by after breakfast and help on a carpeting project. He's rubbish at that kind of thing, but Marco obviously wants to catch up.

"There you are!" Marco says as he approaches the shop. He waves his hand, beckoning.

Marco's newest project appears to be a clock. The outside is nearly complete. The wood is fused together in the traditional square shape with carvings of leaves and blades of grass running up the edges. Marco is busy working in the gears on the inside of the clock that will make the hands turn on the round glass clock face set in the middle.

Marco pauses in his work and holds up a tiny complicated looking mechanism. There's a needle poised to run over some etchings on a gear with other gears to turn the larger middle one. "Would you like to hear?" he asks, and as he turns the gears with his fingers, a strange starching noise forms that sounds strangely like . . .

"Crickets!" he says with a laugh.

Marco nods. "I could not think of a more soothing sound." He sets down the mechanism and heads toward a bench on which sets a few wood carvings. "It's for Ashley and Sean's baby girl," he says. "And this-" raises a wood carving and places it on the clock "goes on top."

He gasps as Marco's hand releases the small sculpture. It's a perfect replica of himself as a cricket, clothes, umbrella and all.

He hears Marco laughing at the amazed expression he knows he must have on his face.

"I wanted you to see it," Marco says.

He is genuinely touched by Marco's work. He loves the idea of this silent wooden version of himself looking over a small child once again, like had done with Pinocchio.

He and Marco haven't spoken about his boy except for that one time after the curse broke. He still stands by the belief that - what was his name? - August is hiding, ashamed and unwilling to face his father or mentor after falling for the temptations of this world. In truth, they'd just like to see him again. But he's sure August will come forward in time. They just have to be patient.

"It's beautiful," he tells Marco. He turns his face away from the clock to prevent himself from the risk of tearing up. "Did, uh, did you really want my help or did you just want to show me?"

"Oh, I need your help," Marco says.

He takes off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and moves to stand by Marco. He has no idea what any of the gears or wires do, but he doesn't have to know. Marco simply instructs him to hold his finger in this place, or hand him this tool or whatever funny looking gismo happens to be lying around.

At first they work in silence, and he takes pleasure in working with his friend again.

"So tell me about his beautiful lady I have heard you've been hanging around with."

He nearly topples over from surprise, but, dedicated, his finger does not move from the spot Marco has instructed him to keep hold. "I, uh-"

"And why did I hear it in passing from her grandmother and not from you?"

"I, uh, what?" Is Granny spreading rumors about him and Red around town?

Marco gives him a stern look, like this isn't the time to be fooling around.

"I, she, we haven't-" He forces his moth to close, his brain to think properly. "Nothing's happening!"

"Nothing," Marco repeats, nodding in slow disbelief.

"We-we're just friends."

Marco leans in to inspect a mechanism of the clock. "I see." He waves his hand as a cue for Archie to remove his.

"Really!" he insists as he removes his finger and takes a step back. He's slightly offended Marco would think he was lying to him.

"And how do you feel about this woman you are 'just friends' with?"

"I . . ." He knows this is a conversation he can't get out of, but he still doesn't want to talk about it. "It doesn't matter how I feel."

"How could it not matter how you feel?" asks Marco, pulling away from the clock. "You feel for her, she feels for you, it matters!"

He shakes his head. "It-it doesn't! She doesn't feel for me that way."

Marco points a ridiculously tiny screw driver at his face. "Have you asked her?"

"I, no-"

He goes back to the clock, his point proven. "Well, then how do you know?"

"I-I know," he says. But that's not entirely true and it's clear Marco doesn't believe him, so he adds. "There's another man."

Marco turns his head to look at him. "Who?"

"Dr. Whale."

Marco scoffs and returns to his work, shaking his head.

"He's younger and attractive, women seem to like him," he says, flabbergasted that Marco would dismiss his competition so quickly.

"Or he likes them," says Marco quietly. He mutters something under his breath that sounds like "dating nuns."

"I-I've seen them together."

Marco turns toward him. "Has she told you of her feelings for him?"

"No," he admits, "but-"

"Have you told her of your feelings for her?"

"No."

Marco raises his hands as though saying "well, there you have it." He says, "How will she know how you feel if you do not tell her?"

His mind skips around for what to say other than the obvious fact that he's too nervous to confess his feelings. "What if . . . what if I'm not what she wants?"

Marco puts down the screw driver. "Then you convince her of your true feelings!" He raises his hand to his chest and places it over his heart. "You confess everything to her, tell her your heart beats for her alone, that in those veins beats the blood of Casanova-!"

He raises his eyebrows.

Marco shrugs, puts down his hand. "Worked for my wife." He goes back to the clock, his back is turned.

He feels like Marco's still waiting for something from him, some kind of confession about his feelings for Red. He struggles with the right words and finally he blurts, "I'm not good at this!"

"No one ever is." Marco sighs and turns around to face him. "My dear friend, I had a wife and a family. And every day it brought me joy. I'd like to see you with the same."

He wants to argue with him, but he can't after words like that.

They return the clock. Ruby isn't brought up again in conversation, but thoughts of her are certainly turning in his head.


	5. Confessions

Henry is standing outside his office door. It's Tuesday and they have a session.

They exchange friendly greetings as he opens the office door. Once inside, he lays his bag on the floor and his jacket over his chair.

Henry follows him in and sits the couch. "Are you and Ruby dating?"

He drops the pen and paper he had picked up from his desk. "No!" he tells Henry as he bends down to pick them up. He realizes he might have spoken a little harshly, so he repeats more softly, "No."

"Really?" Henry asks. "Because Mary Margaret and Emma are talking like you are."

He sighs and puts the paper and pen back on the desk, deciding that they are safer there. He sits in his chair and leans in toward Henry. He's tired of talking about him and Ruby. "How about I let you out of this session early if you don't ask any more questions about me and Red, and when we're done, you can ask Marco what I told him?"

"But I could just ask you."

He leans in further. "He's just put the final touches on a really cool clock I think you'd like to see."

"Really?"

He nods. "Sounds like crickets."

Henry's eyes widen at this. He thinks things over for a moment, then nods. "Okay."

He sighs and leans back, relieved at heading off the conversation.

But Henry, Marco, and Snow's efforts haven't been for naught. After everything, he has a nagging desire for another conversation.

He would really love to talk to Ruby.

* * *

He doesn't talk with her that night, doesn't seek her out. He tells himself it's getting dark and he doesn't want to be an inconvenience, though exactly what he would be inconveniencing her from he doesn't know.

He resolves to talk with her the next morning, to give himself time to think of what he might tell her, how he might say it. But breakfast arrives, and he is just too nervous. How is he even going to approach the conversation?

By the time he's fretted and worried over it, it's closer to lunch. He considers doing away with the whole ordeal, but he's already spent a night and a morning stressing himself. No, he has to do this. He promised himself that he would.

He checks himself in the mirror, fluffs his hair in an attempt to make it look fuller, wonders if he should change his shirt, decides he's wasted enough time and heads out the door until he realizes he's forgotten his jacket and goes back for it.

Pongo pokes his head up from the cushion where he naps.

He waves his hand. "Go back to sleep, boy. I'll be back later."

The dog gives a yawn and puts his head down.

He arrives at the diner early as far lunch as goes, so there aren't many people. This fact terrifies him. He can't get out of this conversation. She won't be too busy this time.

He approaches the counter, looking for her but doesn't see her. She must have gone into the kitchen.

He takes a seat at one of the tables, trying to act normal. The nerves get to him and he flexes his fingers to give himself something to focus on.

"There you are!"

He jumps at the sound of her voice. He hadn't realized she was standing right next to him. "H-hi, Ruby."

"I, uh, wanted to talk to you," she says.

"You, you did?"

"Yeah, I," she looks behind her toward the kitchen where Granny is standing, watching them. "I did. Do you mind going for a walk?"

"Uh, no." He isn't sure what to think about this turn of events. She looks the way he feels, uncertainty threatening to spill over. What could she possibly have to talk about that would have her so nervous? "A-a walk is fine."

"Good," she says smiling. "Do you want some coffee? I'm gonna get some coffee, and then we can go."

She's gone before he can say anything. He's left alone to find that he's even more nervous than he had been when he walked in. And he realizes that he can't just tell her what he had planned on saying, he has to know what she wants to say first.

What if it's Whale? What if, for some unfathomable reason she confesses to him she has feeling for Whale? How could he possibly tell her how he feels then?

"Ready?"

He jumps again, having not noticed her. But he nods at her, manages a smile, and takes the styrofoam cup of coffee from her.

"I'll be back in a bit!" she yells back at Granny.

Granny waves her hand, dismissively.

"I, uh, don't want to keep you," he says as he and Red leave the diner.

She shakes her head. "Granny doesn't mind. It's a slow day, she can handle things for a while."

They walk in silence, Ruby keeping a quick pace and always slightly ahead of him. He waits for her to speak, but she says nothing.

"W-where are we going?" he asks gently.

"Oh!" she says, turning back to him as though she had forgotten he was there. "Uh, the woods. I, just . . . it will help."

She doesn't elaborate further, and he doesn't ask her to. He tells himself everything will be fine, that this torture will end soon. He sips his coffee, the warmth soothing him a little.

When they finally do reach the edge of the woods, she walks in a little ways until they find a fallen tree. She sits her coffee on it, and he takes it as his cue to do the same, though he's a little reluctant to let go of it.

She takes a moment, sighs, looks at him, then bites her lip. "I've been thinking," she says.

He nods, waiting.

"I . . . I want to move forward," she tells him. "I want to let myself want things that . . . I haven't let myself want in a long time."

His stomach knots. He's sure he knows where this conversation is going. But after years of counseling and giving advice, he can't help but be encouraging. "That's good."

"I told Whale-"

He suppresses a groan.

"-that we can't let the past hold us back, but I've realized it's not the past that scares me." She looks at him. "With everything going on in Storybrooke and the future being so uncertain . . . it just seems like the wrong time."

"Life gives us opportunities," he tells her, wishing he could pick up his coffee again, though he's sure it would only upset his stomach more. "Sometimes they come at inopportune times. But if we wait for things to improve, we often find the opportunity has past."

She nods, and then swallows. "I want to date."

He's sure his stomach can't knot itself up any further. "An-and have you anyone . . ." It's hard for him to finish, to ask the question he dreads the answer to. "Anyone you're interested in?" His voice cracks at the end, and he clears his throat to mask the cause of it.

She is silent for a moment, searching for the words, and they she says, "You."

The word freezes him. He's unable to move or speak. He's sure he just imagined what she said.

She hesitates. "I-I was hoping that you . . ."

He remains staring at her, his mind still processing that one word.

She bites her lip again. "I'm sorry," she says. "This wasn't a good idea."

"No!" He reaches out to grab her as she's about to walk past, his mind thankfully allowing him the motor skills to stop her from leaving. "No, I . . . I'm sorry, I . . . I thought, you and Whale-"

"Whale?" she gives an exasperated sigh. "Yes, we've been seen with each other a lot, but it's only because I can't get rid of the guy."

"So," he says, hardly daring to believe it. "The-there's nothing-?"

"He thinks we have some connection," she tells him. "Monster to monster." She moves her lips like she wants to spit out the words. "I realize the guy's suicidal, but I can't take the self pity."

He smiles and a laugh escapes him. It's obvious now how much Whale has annoyed her, and he can't help how happy it makes him feel. "I'm sorry, Red, I . . . I really thought that you and he . . . I worried I had scared you off."

She smiles at him, some uncertainty fading. "I had thought you didn't feel the same way, but Emma and Mary Margaret said you were probably more nervous than I was."

His smile grows wider and he nods at her in answer. Then he walks up to her and takes her hands in his.

Her expression immediately changes, and he can tell how scary all of this is for her. "Red," he says, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. We can take this slow."

She's nodding at him repeatedly, her face bobbing up and down.

"We can go as slow you want," he continues. "As long as you're comfortable. We don't have to-"

Her face lunges forward and suddenly she's kissing him. For a moment he's in utter shock, unable to respond. But adrenaline mercifully goes to his brain, allowing him to realize that, yes, Ruby is definitely kissing him and he definitely wants to kiss her back.

Her lips are warm on his, and he presses his own against them. All too soon she's pulling away.

"I'm sorry," she says immediately. "I had to. Or I was afraid I never would have-"

"It's okay," he tells her, his head swimming now. "It was . . . good."

He doesn't know what to do, so he lets go of her to pick up his coffee. As soon as he lifts it from the tree, he sets it back down. He walks back over to her.

"I'm sorry," he says and sighs. Why does this have to be so nerve wracking? "May I . . . kiss you again?"

She smiles, her facial features softening and her posture relaxing, and she breathes out the words, "Yes, please."

This time he's confident, certain of his actions. He steps toward her, slides an arm over her waist, places his other hand against her neck, and puts his mouth to hers.

They stay like that for a while, their arms around each other, their lips seeking each others. They kiss until all the uncertainties and nervousness fade, until they realize how silly they both have acted, until happiness at their circumstances fills them both, until they're both breathless and laughing.

They walk hand-in-hand back to the fallen tree. Without a word, they pick up their coffees and head back into town. He doesn't let go of her hand, not even when they find themselves back at the diner.

"Do you think," he asks, "if your grandmother would mind if I kept you for lunch?"

The smile she's been wearing on her face widens. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"Yes," he says also smiling.

"I think Granny would be thrilled," she tells him.

Ruby's right. When they walk inside, her grandmother has absolutely no objections to letting her stay off work a little longer.

They sit, eat lunch, talk, and laugh.

And when Dr. Whale happens stop by, he makes sure Ruby's hands are comfortably in his own.


	6. Questioning the Future

Dates around town are all well and good: dinner at Granny's, a walk along the docks, ice cream at the peer, browsing shops downtown. But he worries sometimes that he's being boring. A movie at his place is nowhere near a night on the town, and he knows Ruby is quite the social lady. Although she's told him a number of times that she likes his laid back style, that it contrasts her on-the-go life and helps her relax, he still finds himself wanting to be as exciting as he finds her to be.

It's one night, during a full moon, when he's wondering about her running around the woods that he gets the idea. He doesn't take her out right away. He takes some time to research and gather supplies. But finally he surprises her as she shows up at his door and he hands her a backpack.

He doesn't tell her where they are going. They just start walking toward the woods. She has no idea what he has planned until they break through the trees, walk a ways inward, and find a tent set up. There are some chairs, a place for a fire, and cold storage for food that he had brought up earlier.

The look on her face as she takes it all in is priceless, and he knows he's done well.

"When did you do all this?" she asks, her mouth open in amazement.

"Yesterday," he tells her, grinning at her joy. "I'm glad to see it's all still here."

She turns to him, steps forward and kisses him, and heads straight for the tent.

He takes a moment to congratulate himself before following her. After depositing their things in the tent, they head off to gather firewood. Pongo tugs at his leash, eager to be free, and he lets him go.

They hike along one of the trails, picking up twigs. Ruby comes along a spot where a sapling is growing from a dead tree. She pauses to admire it for a moment, then asks, "When the beans have grown, would you go back to the Enchanted Forest?"

He lets out a long breath. "I don't know," he admits. "You?"

"I don't know," she answers.

She continues down the path, pausing to pick up a slender branch. "I told Whale Storybrooke gave us a chance for a new start, and I meant it," she tells him. "Part of me fears going back to the Enchanted Forest would mean picking up our old lives. But I don't suppose we could just pick up where we left off, not after everything that's happened." She looks at back him.

"No," he tells her. "I don't suppose we could."

She turns away and continues walking. "So maybe it wouldn't be like what I think. But I like it here," she admits. "I like daily hot showers and hamburgers."

He laughs with her.

"I feel like I can do more here than I could there." She shakes her head. "I don't know."

"No," he says. "I-I know what you mean. I'm not sure Jiminy the conscience could do as much as I think Archie the psychologist can. And . . . there aren't any psychologists in the Enchanted Forest."

"You could be the first," she tells him.

"I suppose," he says. But the Enchanted Forest is a completely different world than this one. He's not sure the practice would carry over well.

"If we could back to the Enchanted Forest, would you want to be a cricket again?" she asks, breaking into his thoughts.

He thinks hard about that one and finally says, "No."

"Really?"

"Jiminy was an escape," he explains after bending over to pick up some sticks. "At the time, he seemed like the best option, the only way to get away from my parents and my old life. Now, I've come to realize that there was no escaping it. That life is a part of me. It's made me who I am. I don't want to run from it anymore."

She looks back at him and smiles.

"And . . ." he continues. "There are certain perks to be being human. "

"Like what?" she asks.

"Like, uh, appreciating beautiful women?"

She turns back to him grinning, runs up and kisses him.

"I couldn't kiss you as a cricket," he says once they part. "Well, I could . . . wouldn't be the same, though."

She laughs.

"I couldn't hold your hand," he continues. "Yeah, I-I definitely think human is way to go."

She laughs again and pulls ahead of him to take up the lead again.

He's amazed by his ability at having formed words that make her smile so much.

"Wha-what about you?" he asks. "If you could be rid of the wolf, would you?"

"That's a tough one," she admits. "I mean, if it came down to keeping my loved ones safe, I'd let go of it for sure . . ."

"But?"

"But . . . as long as I can control it . . . I like it," she says. "I like running through the woods. Being the wolf, it made me stronger, taught me how to be confident, taught me I didn't have to be afraid. It's a part of me. I'd be sad to see it go."

He nods. "There was a time when I wouldn't have given up Jiminy."

She smiles at him, a small thank you for understanding.

They have gathered enough firewood to take back to the camp. As the trail takes them close to the road, a car pulls up. He instinctively runs in front of Ruby, but it's only the sheriff's car. Emma steps out of it.

"I see you decided to go ahead with the trip," she says to Archie.

He nods. He had run into Emma while buying supplies, and she had warned him against going out in the woods.

"It's not safe," she tells him.

"Letting the fear of something prevent you from going about your life isn't always the safest practice either," he says. But a twinge of regret hits him as he realizes the danger he's placed Ruby in.

Emma steps forward and hands him a walkie talkie. "Hold on to it," she tells him. "Just in case."

He thanks her, and she leaves, getting back in the car and driving away.

He turns to Ruby, "I'm sorry," he says. "I should have made sure you-"

"The woods don't scare me," she tells him. "And if I was that scared, I don't know what would get me out of bed in the morning."

They continue walking back to camp, but he's preoccupied with the walkie talkie balancing on top of his stack of twigs. "It's not safe here," he says.

She looks back at him, and realizes he's back on their conversation about the Enchanted Forest. "It's not safe there either," she tells him.

He realizes she's right. "Ogers and Evil Queens in one place, people who want to experiment on us in another. . . I almost feel safer with the ogers and magic users."

They reach the camp, and she sets down her wood pile before saying, "Only because that's what we're used to." She turns to him as he drops his armful of twigs. "We have a chance for a life, and who are they to say that we don't belong here? Who are they to chase us back where we came from?"

She walks up to him. "I _want _this," she tells him, taking his hand in hers. "And for one of the first times in my life, I feel like I have the right to want it."

He knows they've gone beyond Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest. She talking about something else now.

"All I wanted," she says, "since discovering I was the wolf, was a normal life. I had thought the wolf had taken that from me and that I would never get it back." She shakes her head and looks up at him. "But that's not true. I have the opportunity here, and I am not going to let those people come in and treat me like some kind of freak show and say I don't have the same rights to a normal life everybody else. I got that treatment too much in the Enchanted Forest, and I am not putting up with it here."

She's beautiful her passion, moisture rising her wide determined eyes, her skin flushed against her cheek bones, her hair brushed back by the slight breeze, her skin glistening from their walk…

He takes her hands in his. "I wish I had your fight."

She smiles, and the internal fire so apparent on her features lessens. "No, you don't." She takes one of her hands from his and places it on his chest. "It's good that you don't. You mellow me out. You make it so I don't have to fight so hard."

And her fire fills him a desire to push himself to be more than he ever thought he could be. He steps forward and kisses her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. She lets her body come against his, her lips seeking his.

When they pull away, he wants nothing more than to carry her into the tent, all thought of cooking on a campfire forgotten. But he takes her hands instead. "If you want to fight for Storybrooke, I'll fight with you."

She smiles at him. "You really think you could call this home?"

At that moment, Pongo returns, barking and running up to them.

They bend down to pet him, and Archie takes a second to admire the image of the three of them together as a family. "Yes," he tells her. "I really could."


End file.
